Page 26 of Protect Your Queen

We hadn’t been home for more than an hour, before another car screeched into the driveway. Brian had disappeared into the office, a phone to his ear. I knew he was speaking to his wife, Susan.

Chris looked at me, his brow furrowed. “Were you expecting company?”

“Like who?” I said, with a roll of my eyes. I don’t know why I was so irritated with him. I just was.

I knew exactly who was outside, but I just wanted to be difficult.

“Boyfriend?” He said with a smirk. I rolled my eyes. “Girlfriend?”

“Have you met my brother? Do you think I’m allowed to date?”

“Point taken.”

Chris reached down, tugging the ankle of his pantleg up as we heard the opening and slamming of car doors. He did have a gun there. So, I stopped him.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry,” I said to the jumpy bodyguard, “That’s just my sister.”

“How can you be sure?” He looked up, still bent over, reaching for his ankle.

“Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah, a sister.” He straightened, his pantleg covering his weapon again.

Was he always that tall? I don’t remember him looking this tall the first time I met him. He was handsome, too. And apparently, he knew about music. I preferred it when I didn’t think he did. What could he possibly think of me? Of what I was doing?

“Can you tell what her footsteps sound like, without seeing her?”

He paused. “I guess.”

“Well, it’s kind of like that. I know the footsteps of all my siblings,” I explained. “Jazz, I can tell by the way her car drifts when she drives.”

“Jazz, as in Jasmine? Is that the one?” He came to my side, still standing between me and the door as if he was ready to catch a bullet if an invader stormed in.

“The very same.”

I didn’t need to prove my point, because the front door slammed open and my leather-clad sister stomped in with the authority of a fire-breathing dragon, burning down a small village. The leather outfit must have chafed in the California heat, but who was I to judge? Her long, straight black hair was parted down the middle, falling forward over her chest as she looked around the room. Her lips were painted a deep, almost black, purple.

She looked like a combination between a Mad Max cosplay, and a biker chick.

I was jealous of that. She got to express who she was in her clothing.

Behind her was a livid looking Jareth, his suit mussed, and his hair spiked like he’d been running his hand through it.

“Jes!” Jareth called, as he strode towards me.

Chris grabbed Jareth by the arm, and he said something to him. It was low, and I couldn’t hear it. But Jareth stared at him with a skeptical look, before his features turned angry again. He shook off whatever he had said, because he resumed his march towards me and plopped on the couch before wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Fuck,” he said, low against my ear. “I should know better than to take my eyes off you. I shouldn’t have left you back there.”

“I’m okay,” I said, stiffening in his arms.

“Tell me what happened and who did it,” Jazz scowled, her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.

If Ihadseen who’d shot at us, I was sure that giving up their name would be a death sentence. We never discussed what Jazz did for the family. I just knew that she did something with the Underground MMA ring. Beyond that, I knew it was illegal, and noone ever wanted to tell me about it. I was the baby, according to them, and I wasn’t old enough to know. Hell, I could be sixty years old, keeping this family afloat with my music money, and they’d still say I was too young.

“We should never have left her alone,” Jareth said through clenched teeth. “This is just like the last time…”

“Shh!” Jazz said, glaring at him.

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